Pavor Nocturnis
by Lady E and Psycho B
Summary: Lance/Pietro SLASH. Never play a game when you don't know all the rules...
1. Chapter One

A/N:  

            …Mrr.  .  Straight from the RPG, baby -- Lance/Pietro slashy goodness.  Yum.  

            Lance = Lady E, Pietro = Psycho B.  You know.  The usual.  

            Pavor nocturnis:  Latin for "night terrors."

            Disclaimer:  Is this really fricking necessary?  For chrissakes…  ::mutters:  .;

**Pavor Nocturnis:  Chapter One**

By: Lady Eternal & Psychodelic Barfly

            Pietro's heart jumped as he heard the rumble of their lone vehicle screech to a stop outside along the curving driveway, and the engine cut.  The car door slammed, and thirty-odd seconds later, the front door did as well.  Darting to the mirror to give himself a last once-over, Pietro dove onto the bed, clicking the metal handcuffs loosely around his slim wrists and posturing seductively, wriggling a bit to smooth the red on black flame satin pajama bottoms down his calves.   

            He pressed his lips together to stifle a sigh... what if Lance didn't like it?  He had been working all day... and he knew of his issues with submissive domination.  But Lance _did, however, enjoy being in charge, and even more than being in charge he loved seeing Pietro partially nude and laid out on any flat surface waiting especially for him, so Pietro's mind was torn: either Lance would like this, or he wouldn't.  _

            Lance paused for a moment in the front hall, having tossed his bag and his keys in the corner.  A half-second was all he needed to decide between a glass of water and a decidedly stronger liquid that he had squirreled away upstairs in his bedroom... _If Toad or Fred ever found out I keep a bottle of brandy behind one of the loose panels in my bedroom... I don't even wanna think__ about Pietro finding it.  That kid should definitely never get drunk... or find out I've got a habit.  Still, he's prolly out boosting something from the mall, so I should be okay to grab a quick drink...  Taking the stairs two at a time, Lance reached the second floor determined to at least dull the edge of the day with his secret stash. _

            Pietro heard the heavy tread of Lance's footfalls heading up the stairs, getting ever closer to his room and, ultimately, his prize.  Pietro swallowed nervously, unable to breathe as he heard Lance's fingers on the doorknob... he'd left the door mostly closed, but unlatched, just as Lance had done that morning after Pietro'd ushered him out of the house to school (late, as usual).  _Lance won't expect a thing, not a thing, he repeated to himself for the umpteenth time.  His breath caught inextricably as the door was pushed open, and a weary silhouette appeared in the doorway... _

            Even if Lance missed the slight indrawn breath in his frustrated state, he couldn't possibly miss the presence of his lover awaiting him in his bed.  By now, he could sense Pietro without hearing the slightest footfall.  A soft smile curved across his face as he took in the sight of his pale, snowy-haired lover: long, supple legs draped in red and black satin across the bed, his lean hips and slender torso half-turned in expectation of his arrival, azure eyes soft and dark in arousal just from anticipation of an afternoon tryst, delicate hands... dangling from a pair of glinting handcuffs. 

            For a moment, Lance couldn't breathe.  Pietro was waiting for him in handcuffs?  What the hell was going on here?  "Pietro?" he managed, hoping his voice didn't sound like the croak of shock he seemed to hear. 

            "Miss me, lover?" Pietro purred, trying his damnedest to be slutty and/or alluring, whichever Lance happened to find more attractive at the moment.  He turned, laying flat on his back, and arched upwards, stretching luxuriously like a satisfied feline and drew his legs up, crossing one over the other, swinging the top leg back and forth slowly, enticingly.  He locked his eyes on Lance, pleased to see how... how... what _was Lance feeling?  _

            Stunned.  That was the only word to describe what Lance was feeling... utterly stunned.  His body's base response to Pietro's allure barely registered as his mind tried to process the glint of steel, the flash of light off the polished metal bringing back memories... _Oh, God...  No longer caring what Pietro might think, Lance suddenly strode across the room and all but tore the loose panel from the wall, removing the bottle and drinking deeply in an effort to keep the past from mingling with the present.  "Yes, I missed you... where the hell did you get those?" he demanded raggedly, gesturing at the handcuffs with the hand holding the bottle. _

            Pietro's brow furrowed in confusion to Lance's reaction... and the fact that he'd just broken another spot in his wall... to get at alcohol.  "Uh, just... the.. Halloween shop at the mall, they were on clearance... Lance, are you okay?  Did something happen at work?" he asked immediately, concerned that maybe he'd had an incident and wasn't feeling himself.  Pietro tried to get up to comfort the rock-tumbler, but was painfully reminded of his bindings as they bit into his soft, white flesh.  _Damned cheap, lousy... cheap... stupid... cheap handcuffs, he griped, wincing and watching Lance down another swig of rum.  Or whatever the hell he was drinking.  Fuck if Pietro was an alcohol expert.  "Lance...?" _

            Lance saw the wince, reminded of his first attempts to free himself from similar bonds... the way the metal had cut into his flesh... how he'd begged...  "Work was work," Lance replied shortly, replacing the cap on the bottle before he would be forced to down the last of the contents and replacing it in the panel.  _I can fix it later...  Feeling the warmth of the liquid flow through his veins, he began to breathe a little easier.  Casually, almost predatorally, he assessed his lover again.  Slowly, he paced towards the bed, the leisurely advance of the hunter who knew the trap had been sprung.  "You decided that you wanted to experiment with bondage?" he asked quietly. _

            "Err... yeah, I guess," Pietro replied uneasily, squirming now under Lance's unreadable gaze.  "I didn't really even think... about what it was... called, but yeah..... you're mad, aren't you?" he wailed, feeling awful about being unable to hide the tear that trailed from his eye at the possibility of his well-planned evening of seduction going to hell in a handbasket.  He turned his face to the opposite side, a pained expression obvious for Lance to see... and to size up.  "You can just unlock them and I'll go... I'm sorry, Lance," he whimpered.   

            Reaching the bed, Lance climbed in with the grace of a jungle cat, hovering over his crestfallen lover on all fours.  Ducking his head close, his lips brushed over the trail the single crystal tear had made down that alabaster cheek.  "You don't want me to do that, though, do you?" he murmured.  His lips brushed across Pietro's spider-fine lashes, his sensitive temple, his breath curling warmly over the delicate shell of Pietro's ear.  "Do you, Pietro?" 

            "Nnn-n-no," Pietro affirmed, inhaling the pleasant aroma of the liquor on Lance's breath.  "I just thought... I thought maybe you'd like this, but maybe I was wrong."  Pietro's eyes drifted to the side, avoiding Lance's at all costs.  "Was I bad...?" he asked after several moments of having Lance perched over him, completely still, save for the ragged breathing and racing heart Pietro could hear easily, egging on his excitement... 

            The innocent question, so easily assimilated into the little game Pietro had initiated, sent a shiver racing down Lance's spine.  Every nuance of his dominant's behavior was etched in Lance's mind: the way every syllable dripped with as much malice as tenderness, every movement as affectionate as it was gracefully lethal... and if that was the game Pietro wanted to play, Lance found it almost frighteningly easy to slip into the role.  "Bad?" he reiterated softly, the word little more than a heated breath against that delicately curled ear.  With a sudden fierceness, his teeth snapped out and sank into the lobe, all but drawing blood as Pietro gave a tiny cry of shock.  "Oh, yes... yes, you were... you must be punished, little one; such misbehavior shouldn't be left unaddressed..." 

            Pietro cried out at the shock of pain.  The feel of a gentle tongue soothing over the violated spot quelled his immediate fear and misgivings, but in any case... he really didn't know just what Lance was capable of.  Though he'd been in Pietro's role in his youth, and must feel sympathy toward him for it, he was almost equally well-versed in the ways of the master.  Pietro shivered. 

            _Gimme that strange relationship... Pietro thought to himself, knowing how entirely screwed up they both were, enjoying something that dredged up such awful memories for Lance... though he seemed to be enjoying himself muchly.  __...Never felt pleasure or pain like this, something so right but it feels so terribly wrong... and I keep holding on...    _

            "Oh, little one," Lance murmured, raising his hand to slowly trace the slim line of Pietro's torso with his fingernails.  "You have no idea what I could do to you... the things I could teach you... pleasure and pain are equal parts of each other, you know.  I can punish you in ways that would make you beg, but you wouldn't know whether you wanted it to stop or go on and on until you'd come too many times to count.  Is that what you were inviting here, my love?  A lesson in just how much pleasure can be found in pain?"  His lips whispered back down Pietro's jaw, his teeth suddenly sinking fiercely into the tender underside.  The harsh sting drew another cry from the gypsy even as Lance suckled on the wounded flesh, drawing the cry out into a low moan.  "Is that what you wanted from me?" 

            "Yesss..." Moaning and writhing under Lance's skilled manipulations, Pietro fell willingly into his own trap.  "Yes, I've been a bad boy, too, Lance... I just thought you should know that," he added, yelping as Lance's teeth sunk into his neck again, this time drawing blood -- blood Pietro could feel sliding down his throat and onto the pillow beneath his head.  Marked.  He'd been marked.   

            Leisurely, Lance raised his head again, slowly surveying his prey... soft and pale and vulnerable beneath him... settling back on his haunches, he continued to peruse his snowy haired lover, watching those azure eyes as they devoured him now, no longer looking away.  _Good.  He wants to know how pain and fear mingle with love and lust... let him watch.  Let's see just how far he's willing to take this...  Stripping off his shirt with slow, feline grace, he watched Pietro's Adam's apple bob almost nervously.  His hair fell around his shoulders, his skin tawny by sheer genetic luck, his muscles firmed and toned by lifting weights and grunt work at the home improvement place in town.  Those wide, naive blue eyes glittered in appreciation, and Lance relished the sight, even as he pulled a surprise of his own from the pocket of his jeans. _

            He quirked an eyebrow as a slight pressure from his thumb snapped open the blade.  "Lesson the first: fear." 

            Pietro blanched.  Lance was springing a fucking switchblade on him?  That couldn't be fair!  It was supposed to be Lance doing things to him, not using stupid... _weapons on him!  Someone could be seriously injured!  _

            Chest puffing up like a little bird as he prepared to start in on a lengthy lecture, Pietro squeaked in shock when the blade came down, sharp and swift, through the mattress just to his left; Lance's right.  He choked and sputtered, his eyes wide and surprised, filled with true uncertainty and... fear?  God, he didn't want to have to fear Lance!  What had he gotten himself into? 

            Lance saw the ashen-faced fear wash over Pietro's face and inwardly quailed.  The part of him that would end this game now, however, was safely tucked in a little corner of his mind; Pietro had invited this, and he would not soon forget that it was best to know that with which he chose to meddle before he decided on these little games... and perhaps, just perhaps, he would understand Lance a little better in the end as well.  "You invited this," Lance taunted, slowly drawing the blade out of the mattress.  His grip was almost negligent as he then slowly traced the tip of the blade across Pietro's smooth, unmarred chest... down along his ribs...  "You wanted this... and yet you don't know what I'm going to do, do you?  You're not really certain I won't cut you, are you?" 

            Pietro's breath caught.  He stared at Lance, wondering at his expression of utter... un-Lanceness, for lack of a better word.  He was so cold, so formal, so far away from even the primal, animalistic male who'd begun to ravish him senseless, then stopped to frighten him and... become someone else.  _Jesus.  The knife was against his skin now, Lance was dragging it lazily along his torso...  _

            Light as air, he traced the line of Pietro's chest, down over his stomach, following the waistband of the satin pajama pants.  He watched Pietro's huge eyes tracing every movement; without warning, he took hold of the soft material and slashed it open down the front, watching in a mixture of power and latent sorrow as Pietro's eyes slammed closed and his body tensed away from the motion.  "Careful, Pie... you wouldn't want me to slip because you moved..."  

            Blue eyes squeezed shut in horror at the hideous sound of ripping fabric as his new pants were shredded.  He slitted one eye open cautiously, hearing Lance murmur something along the lines of, "Stay still or you're gonna be gutted like a fish."  _Okay, okay, he reasoned, __Lance didn't quiiiiite say that, but... oh god, just put the fucking knife down already, baby, please...  He kept his mouth tightly shut, defiance oozing from every pore.  He wouldn't let Lance win.  No.   _

            Lance could smell the fear and the resistance coming from the younger mutant.  An intoxicating perfume to the persona he'd adopted; sickening to his true self.  Since when had he ever given anyone anything of his true self?  Pietro had perhaps come the closest, but what Pietro wanted right now wasn't a glimpse of Lance's soul; it was a long, hard, exotic fuck, and Lance was going to give it to him.  The material drifted raggedly over Pietro's hips, baring an erection fueled by as much fear as desire.  Lance's lips curved in a predatory smile a fraction of a second before the hand with the knife was moving again, gliding like a fairy's wing past that little puckered navel, tracing up the ridge of Pietro's erection...  slowly... ever so slowly the tip followed the underside of that sensitive ridge of flesh... 

            Pietro didn't dare move a muscle -- Lance was holding his very manhood hostage.  _Okay, this is where the game turns from fun to fucking scary, he worried, biting his lip and coaxing out a small quantity of blood.  Maybe it was time, Pietro decided, to call it off: Lance had been drinking, this was entirely foreign to him, and it was frightening him so badly his bladder was begging to rebel, even worse than when he'd played hide-and-go-seek with his sister for fun as a child... or played the game with Wanda, hiding from their father and his ever-ready backhands, or blood-redirections.  Mmyeah, those were always a blast.  "Lance... please don't hurt me," he whispered brokenly, ashamed to admit his game was set and matched.  He was not in control.   _

            Something in his voice penetrated.  Ducking close, Lance slid the knife away and closed it as his teeth sank into the sensitive tip of Pietro's erection, worrying it with his sharp incisors until Pietro was crying and bucking beneath him.  Before Pietro could come, Lance released it, noting with satisfaction that the flesh was an angry, almost bruised purple-red.  It would be sensitive for days, sharply reminding him every time he even became aroused...  "I told you you'd beg," Lance murmured. 

            Crying freely now, Pietro's tears coursed down his cheeks to dampen the blood-dropletted pillow beneath his head.  Lance was biting his penis!  _Motherfuckingsonofawhore!!! his mind screamed as his body betrayed him and bucked wildly for Lance, his head thrashing from side to side.  He had to stop this, before his mind became too clouded to think clearly.  _

            Why hadn't he thought he'd even need a stop-word, a safe-word of any kind?  Why should he, when this was just Lance?  What could he even say to Lance not to stop him dead in his tracks?  He cried harder when Lance eased off his bruised, aching member, his betraying hips leaving the bed to follow Lance's mouth in protest.  _Damn them! he hissed.   _

            Lance saw the tears and yearned to kiss them away, the part of himself that desperately wanted this to be over growing stronger by the minute.  He didn't really have the heart to play this role, not for long... not for nearly as long as Pietro had wanted... and yet Pietro was quickly discovering that he really didn't have the stomach for it, either...  Stripping the rest of his clothes away, Lance slid gracefully between those parted thighs.  His thumb brushed back and forth over the flesh he'd just attacked, the sob of pain mingled with pleasure that left those ribbon-candy lips like a knife in his own heart.  "Lesson the second: know your limits."  Urging those supple legs around his hips, Lance slid deep into Pietro's body, his thumb still tormenting the bruised tip of Pietro's erection. 

            Pietro's throaty cry quickly melded into a moan, enjoying the feeling of being taken, possessed, split in half by his keeper... and yes, he knew now more than ever before that Lance was, indeed, his keeper.  Broken, and made whole, all in one excruciating, incredible instant... and he reveled in the brutal feel of being taken raw.  He was such a whore.   

            Lance stroked him leisurely, a counterpoint to the rhythm of his hips, his heart as raw and aching as the flesh he now tortured... he couldn't let go of the persona... not yet... Gripping Pietro's hips powerfully in one hand, he picked up the pace with the other, constantly rolling the tip of Pietro's cock under his thumb and absorbing Pietro's cries like blows to his heart... punishing him for ever allowing himself to engage in this game with Pietro to begin with... 

            Now, with the knife long gone and Lance loving him as he should, Pietro's sense of control began to creep back into his consciousness.  Twisting and rocking under Lance, being roughly shoved with each pounding thrust, Lance jerking at his throbbing member, the sounds of breath and skin and chain-link metal clinking... "God Lance, fuck me harder!  Harder!" Pietro begged wantonly, utilizing his long legs to pull himself as far inside Lance as humanly possibly.  "Laaaance," he moaned, no longer aware of what he was doing or saying, only in it for the raw, primal pleasure of it all... and surrender.  "Lance... you are my fucking god!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, and upon hearing that, Lance banged his abused body so violently, he broke the headboard's spindle right off, freeing the linked hands and enabling them to cling like small, panicked animals to Lance's body.

            Lance lost control, taking Pietro harder, deeper... barely, he heard the snap of the wood as Pietro's chained hands broke free of their anchor, falling around his shoulders to dig tightly into the muscles of his back... somewhere in his mind he was able to formulate enough neurons to lift Pietro from the bed and slam him against the wall, pinning the slender gypsy by the sheer force of his hips as one hand stroked Pietro even harder, the other lacing into Pietro's hair possessively as his mouth slanted over Pietro's in a fierce, claiming kiss...  He felt Pietro's lithe body trembling beneath his hands, his erection quivering in anticipation of an incipient orgasm...  Lance couldn't hold on much longer...  "Come, Pie," he snarled, his teeth nipping fiercely at Pietro's already bruised lower lip.  "Come for me now." 

            Fulfilling his role of utmost obedience to the letter now, Pietro's penis let loose with an impressive stream of semen, coating Lance's hand, seeping through his fingers and lubricating the final few strokes as Pietro felt Lance explode deep within him, thrusting with a blinding accuracy that managed to locate and stimulate Pietro to another, smaller orgasm.  

            "I... did..." he gasped, body numb and limp from the brutal treatment.  "Have I been a good boy, Lance?" he panted, staring deeply into the dark eyes. 

            Lance shuddered, falling back into himself as the other persona slid away like water down a pane of glass.  He couldn't handle that... nodding blindly, he tried to catch his breath and found that he couldn't... his head swam with more than just passion's aftermath and he slid free of Pietro's body, stumbling across the hall just barely in time to be violently ill. 

* * * * *

            In a flash, Pietro was up and after his loverboy, at his side the second he heard the first gagging sounds.  Picking the tiny lock on the cuffs with the key he'd stashed nearby in the bedroom, Pietro managed to unlatch one half of the contraption, and reached to hold the damp sable hair in a loose grasp, his other hand smoothing soothingly up and down Lance's naked back, feeling each upheaval directly, seeing the muscles around his spine retract and recoil with each gag... "Lance, Lance, do you need me to call someone?  Are you okay?"  

            Pietro's mind worried over a million possibilities as he waited, waited... finally the retching ceased.  Pietro handed Lance a towel, standing in place and wringing his pale hands nervously, eyes locked on Lance, who was propped up against the toilet, eyes half-lidded. 

            Weakly, Lance shook his head, a tremor racing through him as the cool porcelain sharply contrasted with the spike in his body temperature caused by the vomiting.  He needed to swallow a couple of times before he could find his voice.  "Are... you okay?" 

            "_Me?  OfCourse__I'mOkayYouIdiot! Jesus!" Pietro muttered as he knelt down and hugged him tightly, vomit residue be damned.  "I love you, I'm sorry I did that to you, and I'll never do it again," he promised quickly, rising to get Lance a glass of water to drink or... swish. _

            The words hit Lance like physical blows.  Pietro?  Apologizing to him?  Lance knew what he'd done, had known precisely what he was doing when he'd pulled out his old switchblade.  When Pietro returned with the glass of water, it was a shaking pair of hands that took it, trembling lips that sealed around the rim, tear-filled, red-rimmed eyes that closed as he slowly drank to rid his mouth of the taste of vomit.  "Pie, you don't have to apologize to me.  You're not the one that pulled a knife." 

            "...I know.  But I asked for it, so shut up," Pietro ordered, taking the downed glass and refilling it straight from the tap.  "D'you want some... drugs, or something?" he asked further, rifling through the medicine cabinet.  "I think we might have some Maalox or something..."  The dangling remains of the handcuffs banged against the mirror as Pietro grabbed a bottle of chewables and shoved a half-dozen into Lance's mouth, no opposition allowed. 

            Lance quickly spat five of them into the bowl beside him, obediently munching on the last one and washing it down with the water.  "You're only s'posed to take one, Pie... and you're technically not supposed to take any kind of medication with alcohol unless you want to die."  He chuckled self-mockingly.  "Good thing I just threw up most of what I drank." 

            Bleary eyes turned up towards his still naked lover.  "How'd you get out of the cuffs?" 

            "Damn it, Lance!  It says _right fucking here: 'for adults, chew 2-4 tablets to relieve upset stomach'!" Pietro grabbed the bottle and dumped a few more into his palm.  "And I had a key hidden... around," he said mysteriously.  "Didn't think I'd be able to get at it without help, but... seeing as you kinda... broke the bed, I could," he said, smiling weakly.  "C'mon, take at least two more," he demanded, pressing the pills into Lance's hand and fiddling with the second half of the locked cuffs. _

            Lance's eyes shuttered closed for a moment, and then his hand latched around Pietro's wrist, yanking the slender mutant into his lap for a tight, clutching embrace.  "I love you, Pietro...  I swear to whatever God might be listening:  I'd never hurt you... you know that, right?" 

            Pietro smiled, curling into the embrace.  "I know, Lancie," Pietro assured him, patting his hand.  "If I didn't trust you, would I have locked myself into your bed and let you do what you did, hmm?"  He purred in Lance's ear.  Lance tried to capture his mouth, but Pietro pulled away quickly.   

            "Nuh-uh, not until you brush your teeth!" Pietro insisted, and squealed at the playful pinch on his bottom.  "And maybe not even then... that taste _never goes away," he complained, wrinkling his small nose in distaste. _

            Lance chuckled softly, starting to feel some of the self-loathing slip away.  "Y'know, Pie... it's not like I'm entirely opposed to the idea of tormenting you while you're handcuffed to the bed.  You just need to avoid those S&M signal words... or surprising me like that.  Surprise me with anything else: roses and massage oil, a role-playing fantasy; hell, even with sex in the shower!  Just... not handcuffs or leather or toys or anything like that... okay?"  He nuzzled Pietro's neck, his tongue lapping at the wound he'd caused earlier.  "You just... need to be a bit careful with me... okay?" 

            "Mmm," Pietro agreed.  "I need to take extra special care of my little Lanciepoo... and we should start with that shower," he snickered wickedly, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.  "I think you need a niiiiice shampoo, don't you?" he said, sitting up and taking Lance's hand.  "And maybe a deep conditioning treatment, and a massage..." he babbled on as he started the water, peering over his shoulder and gazing appreciatively at Lance's backside as said boy stood over the sink and slopped a blob of Colgate onto his toothbrush.  "Coming?" 

* * * * *

A/N:  Fwah… phase one complete.  ::shifty eyes::  .


	2. Chapter Two

**Pavor Norcturnis:  Chapter Two**

By:  Lady Eternal & Psychodelic Barfly

            Lance allowed Pietro to drag him into the shower, a slightly bemused smile playing at his lips.  Pietro was a mischievous, devious, little troublemaker, but when he decided to be sweet, he was so soft and innocent and endearing...  It did Lance's heart so much good when he decided to take care of him... 

            Wrapping his arms around hips and locking lips onto Lance's, Pietro invited the initial embrace with open arms.  A delicate pink tongue darted out to play, moistening already-wet lips as he maneuvered Lance under the spray, running his fingers through the thick, dark hair.   

            He pressed his abdomen against Lance suggestively, despite his soreness from earlier.  Lance'd been fucking rough with him, damn it.  But he'd liked it, so it was all good.  ...Matter of fact.... Pietro was not realizing just how hot it'd been -- Lance making him his bitch.  _Mmm...___

            Just the feel of Pietro rubbing up against him, that lithe body arching against his like a small cat's, had Lance's knees weak and his entire body throbbing.  Self-loathing induced nausea dissolved with a shimmer as that talented tongue darted out, licking at his lips despite the faint aftertaste of his retching, mixed with toothpaste... Lance wrapped his arms tightly around that small, eager body, his body and heart aching all at once...  "I love you, Pie," he murmured. 

            "I know you do," Pietro returned easily, giggling as Lance swatted his bottom for being "fresh."  "Aaaaand I love you, too."  Snuggling close was proving too warm, especially when mixed with hot water, so Pietro pulled away, his hand bringing, then dropping Lance's as he reached to the back of the shower for his shampoo bottle.   

            He reasoned that maybe today, Lance was entitled to use of the "good" shampoo.  He snapped open the cap and poured a generous dollop into his cupped palm, recapped the bottle and advanced upon Lance, a seductive smile playing about his beautifully curving lips. 

            Lance quirked an eyebrow at the playful, sexy smile on Pietro's lips.  He'd noticed the bottle which Pietro had just handled.  "Well now... since when do I rank Thermasilk?" he queried, his eyes lit teasingly. 

            "Since I decided you do," Pietro said confidently, working up a lather between his fingers.  "C'mere, heartbreaker," he commanded, snapping surprisingly well for someone with a foamy mess in place of hands.  Lance was an awfully obedient boy, Pietro noted, and knew he'd have to reward his good behavior... later on.  

            Lance's head bowed to allow Pietro's slim fingers to travel through the locks, creating a mass of sudsy bubbles in no time.  "See how nicely the good shampoos lather, baby?  You should shower with me more often, and you'd know..." 

            A deep, soft chuckle rumbled through Lance's chest, and once the suds were rinsed out, he captured the speedster again for a long, deep kiss.  "If I'm not careful, you're the one who's gonna do the heartbreaking around here, Pietro," Lance confessed hotly.  "I knew that the minute I met you."  Capturing his lips before he could reply, Lance relished the soft sound of want that broke against his lips as he kissed the speedster again.  "And I might just take you up on that shower offer... it'd save on the hot water, too..." 

            "Fuck yeah, it would," Pietro agreed readily between passion-filled kisses, keeping his hands working Lance's mane while they touched, or, more accurately, while he was touched.  Seeking the tangles, freeing them, hand groping for his conditioner as Lance's hands groped him.  It was heavenly.   

            Pietro's response, even after the rough fuck he'd just had, sent heat spiraling through Lance which had nothing to do with the water streaming over both of them.  He needed to show Pietro how much he loved him... how much he regretted his actions... he stroked Pietro's growing erection, soaking up Pietro's ministrations and his soft moans of enjoyment... thought vanished, and Lance dropped to his knees, drawing Pietro's slightly bruised member into his mouth.  His fingers gently stroked those lithe hips as Pietro started from the sting of contact with his bruised flesh, his tongue unconsciously tracing the same path his switchblade had taken not so long ago as he suckled deeply... 

            Pietro whimpered as Lance engulfed his member; pain and pleasure were blurred now.  Every throb of heat in his erection signaled a painful, unpleasant feel, but yet... Lance's tongue soothing over his flesh was nice, very nice, indeed... Pietro's hands fell to the sides of Lance's head, cupping him possessively, still stroking his hair.   

            Lance just kept suckling; lightly, trying not to aggravate the damage he'd already done nor cause the twinges of pain to outstrip the surges of pleasure.  One hand slid between those long, powerful legs, his fingers softly juggling the satin-sheathed balls nested by pristine white curls, while the other curled further back, his fingers massaging the roughly used flesh, testing for injury... 

            Pietro's knees buckled as he felt Lance's finger delving into the usual territory.  His hand shot out to feel for something to grasp to keep himself upright, but came into contact with nothing but cool, pale tiles as he slid down the wall at a rapid pace.  He groaned as Lance caught him, eyes closed and brow furrowed.  "Sorry," he said softly, a tinge of anger in his voice.  It was directed at himself, but Lance, of course, didn't know this.   

            Backing off, Lance's eyes remained closed, his breath ragged as he licked suddenly dry lips.  What had he done?  Maybe Pie had meant to keep this platonic after such a rough fucking...  he'd swung back into the role of the submissive without realizing, his fingers dropping away from their tasks as he knelt in the eddying water on the floor of the tub. 

            "Mm... err, Lance?" Pietro asked, seeing the older mutant setting with his eyes closed at his feet, looking as if he were about to be ill.  _Maybe we both caught something, Pietro worried, trying to sit up and fight the dissipating dizziness he was experiencing.  "Lance, hey, are you gonna be sick again?" he demanded, quickly throwing open the curtain to grab the trashcan for his lover even as he spoke.  "Lance?!" _

            Lance took a soft breath, turning his eyes up towards his lover almost in supplication.  He saw the lines of concern etched on Pietro's face and felt a shiver of relief trip down his spine.  Pietro wasn't angry... he hadn't done anything wrong.  Reaching out, he ran his hands up Pietro's legs as he rose, curling that lithe body close.  "No... I'm all right, Pie.  I just... it's hard to put into words..." 

            "I know what you mean..."  Pietro cuddled close, pleased that he'd taken the 90-odd seconds to clean the shower stall earlier that week.  Sitting in Fred and/or Todd's filth wasn't particularly thrilling to him.  Pietro parted his legs, opening himself to Lance's embrace and clinging to him with an almost desperate intensity.  "Some things you just don't question," he added, lips curving against the smooth cheek of the brunette, intoxicating his senses. 

            Breathing deeply, Lance curled Pietro even tighter, feeling a tear slip from his eyes and mingle with the water as he buried his face in Pietro's slender neck.  It felt so good... so good that it was almost painful...  pain and pleasure... it always comes down to that, doesn't it?  "I love you, Pietro... I've never loved anyone as much as I love you."  His lips brushed over Pietro's neck; Lance couldn't resist a gentle nip at the pulse point.  "I love you so much..." 

            "I know, I know you do," Pietro assured him, head dropping back to allow Lance better access to his neck.  The delicate white skin was marred on one side from the vicious bite Lance had delivered earlier.  Now, his lips were gentle, soothing the angry-looking welts with tender kisses.   

            Pietro's hand pressured Lance's back, pressing them flush against one another.  Keeping his fingers busily at work, massaging the tensed muscles of Lance's shoulders, Pietro's lips issued the same promise: "I love you, Lance, love... you..." gasping for breath, but bound breathless by the suddenly passionate assault of his throat... 

            "Say it again," Lance pleaded, kissing the smooth line of pale skin until he reached the collarbone, suckling on a particular spot at the base.  His hands curved over the smooth, taut cheeks of Pietro's derriere and he lifted, bearing his precious cargo back against the cool tiles of the wall.  His lover properly braced, he urged those soft, rounded thighs to encircle his waist. 

            "I love you," Pietro repeated obediently, clamping powerful thighs around Lance's hips, squeezing.  "And I'm going to love you every single day..."  Trailing lips across Lance's temple, "...of every single week..."  Kissing each closed eyelid, "Of every month..."  Kiss... kiss. "Of every year..." On the lips... "For the rest of your life," he finished, bringing Lance's head to the position he desired, nipping his lower lip and pulling away, moaning as he felt Lance spear him. 

            Lance sank home slowly, savoring the deep, tight warmth of Pietro's body enveloping him.  It always felt so good... like home...  Lance brushed kisses over Pietro's face, almost fearful of deeper contact... of being overwhelmed by how much he loved this sweet, devious young man...  "I love you, Pietro... I love you..." 

            Pietro noticed Lance's surprise when he informed him: "You are home." -- apparently, Lance wasn't aware he'd been murmuring the words.  He bounced in Lance's lap, slowly at first to alleviate any pain, but soon, his body demanding more, faster, more!  Keeping one arm linked around Lance's back for balance, the other snaked around front to fondle himself, lips parting in sheer ecstasy.   

            Lance caught the masturbating appendage, drawing it up to wrap around his shoulders.  Careful to keep Pietro balanced, he slid one hand between their bodies, taking over the hand job himself, his hips keeping a rhythm like a heartbeat... he could almost hear his own heartbeat, his pulse roaring in his ears as Pietro arched to meet every upward drive, arms and legs wrapped tightly around his body, snowy head tipped back as he abandoned himself to passion's thrall... "You are so damn beautiful," Lance murmured, ducking his head to once again kiss that soft, slender throat, suckling on the Adam's apple... 

            Pietro's newly liberated hand sought refuge, eventually finding a place curled in Lance's hair.  He heard Lance grunt in pleasure at a particularly rough thrust, and his hand tightened instinctively into the wet locks, tugging sharply.  Lance hissed against his throat, nipping almost painfully in retort, his hand squeezing the hardened flesh in its grasp, making Pietro cry out in pleasure.  "Lance," he choked, trying to catch his breath, noticing the faint slapping sounds above the rush of the water, swirling around them and down the drain... 

            The sound of his name dropping from Pietro's lips in that husky, impassioned voice sent shivers down Lance's spine.  Unable to stop himself, he thrust faster, deeper, claiming all of the one thing he was ever sure of from Pietro... he was too afraid to believe that he held anything else... afraid it would be taken away...  "Mine," he murmured fiercely, suddenly overcome by the emotions raging through him.  "You're mine, Pietro..."  He repeated it over and over, punctuating each possessive thrust until he was nearly mindless, possessive endearments echoing in a litany against the tiles.  "Mine... my love... my life... my heart... my own... MINE..." 

            "In your ::bounce:: fucking ::bounce:: dreams," Pietro hissed, breathing heavily as he was jostled by the older mutant, "You're _mine."  Blunt, manicured, square-tipped nails dug into Lance's shoulder blades, trying to get traction and anything even somewhat resembling a grip, but the slippery conditions made it difficult.  "I might be yours, but you're fucking __mine, and don't you ::bounce:: forget it," he reiterated for emphasis, hands sliding down the smooth planes of Lance's back to clutch his cheeks; one in each palm, kneading firmly.  "Love you..."   _

            The words, added harshness born from passion, hit Lance like a slap to the face.  It had always been this way: Lance belonged to someone else; never was there anyone who belonged to him.  There was never mutual possession, no reciprocal binding.  Lance had given Pietro his heart, and one day, when he tired of the brunette, the speedster would crush it in those delicate little hands.  But it was the price Lance was used to paying for the affection he craved... one day, he'd escape... he'd end it all and be free... maybe even loved...  The litany died in his throat and he hammered into Pietro with mind-numbing intent, needing to feel the fleeting moment of mutual belonging whenever he and Pietro came together... 

            Pietro sensed the change in Lance's being, felt it in the mystery of his rhythm, saw it etched plain as day across his handsome features.  "Stop," he whispered, Lance seemingly oblivious to the words.  "Lance, please stop... I said stop!" he said firmly, placing a palm to his breastbone to create distance between them.  He could tell by the half-shudder he'd interrupted Lance's climax midway through.  _Fuck him, Pietro decided angrily... or at least, he tried to be angry.  But the fiercest emotion present was fear; balance upset.  "Stop," he said once more, brokenly.  His gaze left the ground and rose to Lance, the sudden tears apparent even with the water droplets splashing his upturned face.  "What's the matter with you?  You always get... goddamned... crazy sometimes, what's going on?  Why do you always __do that?" Pietro cried, hands raising to cover his eyes in shame. _

            The tears almost sent Lance to his knees, but doing so would tumble Pietro from his precarious perch.  Unable to retreat, Lance tightened his grip on Pietro and leaned forward, resting his forehead against his beloved's.  "I'm sorry, Pie... I'm sorry...  I don't... I don't know how to explain it.  I don't even think you could understand if I did.  I..."  A ragged breath left him, half-sob and half-anguished-sigh.  "Do you wanna stop?" 

            "I-I... I don't know!" Pietro wailed from behind his hands, wishing he could retreat into his own tiny little world and not have to face the situation he'd just created.  "You're done anyway... just... just put me down," Pietro ordered, feeling for something to grip to facilitate his descent -- something that was not Lance or any of his respective body parts.  "I'm sorry," he muttered, moving to cower in the far corner of the stall.  "I'm so sorry, I just... but you're done, so you're fine," he insisted, telling himself more than Lance at this point.  Head bowed, he took hold of the shower curtain to leave. 

            Panic took hold of Lance's heart.  Pietro was leaving... leaving him, them, whatever it was they shared... he'd screwed things up, hurt Pietro...  but he couldn't let Pietro leave... not without...  Lance wrapped an arm around Pietro's waist, pulling him back into the warm circle of his arms.  "Pie, please... I'm sorry.  I'll do anything you want... be anything you want... just don't leave me, please.  Please.  Please, God, don't leave me.  I won't do it again; I promise.  I'll do anything you ask..." 

            Pietro was stopped, one foot out of the stall.  "...What?" he asked, pulling it back inside and squinting in annoyance at Lance, rubbing at his nose, which had started running due to his tears, not understanding where the rock-tumbler was going with this.  "What the hell are you babbling about?  _Be?"  Pietro turned to face Lance, painfully aware that his prick was still engorged and standing at full attention, awaiting its finish impatiently.  He scowled at it.  _

            "I was just going... to get dressed..." he said cautiously, peering closely at Lance's face, gauging his expression.  "There's something not quite right with you right now, and I'm not going to aggravate it."  He grabbed the back of Lance's head and pulled him down for a quick kiss on the mouth, closed-lipped.  "Go ahead and finish... I'll order a pizza or... something." 

            Pietro left, and Lance let him go.  It was over now; he knew it.  He'd lost Pietro...  The door clicked shut and Lance sank to the floor of the tub and curled into a little ball, unable even to weep in his desolation.  He'd given his heart to the boy... laid himself open and vulnerable as he had only once in his life... and history had repeated itself...  _I'm never gonna learn... it's over...  Lost in his own despair, he never noticed as the temperature of the water gradually dropped, the now cold water splashing across his broad shoulders and carrying away the last of the Thermasilk shampoo.  Unseeing eyes gazed at the water eddying and swirling around the drain...  __If only I had my blade... no mess to clean up... by the time Pie or the others bothered to check on me, it'd be over... _

* * * * *

A/N:  …Masturbating appendage.  XD  XD  XD  ::passes out::  …  ::coughs::  ((Keep Psycho B outta t' damned Nyquil!))  Phase two, complete…

            And now, you lazy-ass readers, if I-- errr, _we don't get more than TWO measly reviews this go-round, there won't BE any more chapters.  They're done, I have them, but you'll never see them, unless you leave your calling card and prove that someone's reading this goddamned thing.  Even a freaking smiley face is adequate, people.  .  It takes about ten seconds to leave an emoticon.  _


	3. Chapter Three

**Pavor Nocturnis:  Chapter Three**

By:  Lady Eternal & Psychodelic Barfly

            Dried and dressed in a flash, Pietro zipped downstairs to sift through the drawer of ads, snorting in triumph as he located a Domino's advertisement.. one with coupons!  _Yessss, he giggled, knowing Lance would be pleased with his uncharacteristic thriftiness.  _

            He started to dial when he realized he hadn't asked what kind Lance even wanted... some days were more pepperoni, others _total sausage days.  Or maybe today... today was probably an "everything" kinda day... he darted back upstairs, calling out as he walked in, "Lance, sweetie, what'd you want on you..r..?  Lance?"  He stared at Lance, who was busily picking apart a shaving razor. _

            The intrusion of another human voice almost paused Lance, but not quite.  His fingers mechanically removed the blade from the razor, his eyes fixed upon the unused edge.  Only when he'd achieved his goal did he pause, setting the razor's carcass in the sink. 

            "Lance...?  What're you doing?" Pietro stepped up to his beau, peering into the sink at the discarded plastic razor casing.  Lance was standing perfectly still, the blade pinched between his thumb and forefinger.  Pietro's brow furrowed.  "Lance," he started quietly, "Tell me you weren't... aren't gonna _use that..." _

            "Don't worry, Pietro," Lance replied softly, turning back to the tub and its still-flowing shower.  "You won't hafta clean up after me." 

            Pietro stood, dumbstruck, staring at Lance's retreating form as it disappeared back into the bath, the shower curtain fluttering somewhat in the aftermath.  It took him only a second after that to follow, tearing the damned plastic sheet off the rings and grabbing Lance's arm, mid-slice.  Quick fingers snatched the sharp metal away, tossing it in the sink along with it's shell.  

            Lance was bleeding already.  Pietro closed his eyes, a pained expression darkening his beautiful features.  He hadn't yet released Lance's bleeding limb.  "Lance... you are an idiot.  But I love you anyway, damn it," Pietro said, stepping into the tub fully clothed without a second thought.  Kneeling in a position of worship before Lance's naked form, he took the arm, faced the injured section out, and slowly trailed his tongue from wrist to mid-forearm, lapping at the blood as it spilled from his lover's body.  Hoping for a peace offering of sorts...

            Lance watched as Pietro lapped at the gash, not deep enough to threaten his life but deep enough to send a ribbon of bright red blood spilling across his arm and dripping into the water that swirled at their feet.  _He won't even let me end it... he says he loves me, but he doesn't want me... I don't do anything right, but he won't let me end it...  "What do you want from me?" he finally asked, the words driven by nothing short of soul-deep exhaustion, breaking wearily past his lips like an old man forced to wander far longer than was good for him. _

            Pietro's eyes locked on Lance's as he spanned wrist to forearm, seeing Lance's shudder as well as feeling it.  "Want from you?  I don't expect anything from you.  All I want is you," he confessed, slowly rising from his position of worship and posing demurely before Lance.  "And if you loved me even half as much as you claim to, you wouldn't hurt me by taking yourself away from me."  His gaze turned to the sink.  "You wouldn't want to scar me permanently, would you, Lance?  Like the scar _that's gonna leave?" _

            "It's just a scar," Lance replied, his voice faint, almost timid.  "It'll fade; they all fade.  They tell the story of your life; scars... on the outside and the inside.  But you can't see the scars inside, can you, Pie?  Can't see how everything you say means something else because of those scars?  It's my fault, though... I should know you can't see them, should just be what you want... the pain goes away when I do... it hurts so bad when I fuck up with you, Pie... I don't know what else to do..." 

            "Then you need to tell me when I say something that bothers you, Lance."  Pietro stared at the floor, then up at Lance, eyes pleading.  "I don't ever mean to upset you, you have to know that!  It just seems like anything I say now is taken and twisted... I don't want to have to walk on eggshells, because that's not a real relationship, Lance... If I can just avoid certain things in the first place, we won't have any problems," Pietro promised, looking at Lance hopefully. 

            That sweet, innocent, angelic face...  tears welled up in Lance's eyes as he reached out, cupping one pale cheek with his un-bloodied hand.  "You're so beautiful... they would have eaten you alive where I grew up... had you turning tricks before you even reached puberty... I almost did that, you know?  If I hadn't been picked up by my dominant, I woulda been turnin' tricks by the end of the year... Pie, don't you understand?  I've never had anything... you tell me you love me but you won't let me keep you... you keep _me, but I can't keep __you...  because you know I won't ever let go.  And I try to feel like we belong to each other, just for a minute, but you won't let me, you push me away.  You don't know what that means, Pie... it means that someday, you'll go; you'll crush my heart in those dainty hands and leave me... I won't have anything left.  Please, Pie... just help me make it go away... if you won't let me end it, then tell me how to make it go away because I can't hurt like this anymore..." _

            Pietro blinked his surprise.  "Well... I always thought it was mutual... _ownership,__ so to speak," Pietro said hesitantly.  "I mean, c'mon, now, who else on this earth is able to tell me my ass looks fat in a pair of pants and __not get hit but you?  That should mean at least something to you..."  He giggled softly and looked Lance in the eyes.   "You __do own me, Lance, the same way I would hope I own you... and if not, maybe someday.  I don't want you to feel hurt... especially when there's no reason or logic behind it."  Pietro looked around, suddenly aware that he was fully dressed and standing in a running shower, a decidedly chilly running shower.  _

            "I think we have a lot to talk about... let's not do this in here, okay?" he pleaded largely with his eyes, knowing full well Lance had a devil of a time resisting his begging blues.  He turned off the water, tugging Lance out and wrapping a towel around his arm, the red liquid seeping through the pristine white cloth at an alarming rate. 

            Lance acquiesced, letting Pietro lead his shivering form from the tub.  It seemed colder than it ought to be... and he felt rather light-headed... Pietro's words swam in his mind as he followed the speedster back into the bedroom, goose-bumps rising all over his body.  "It's cold, Pie..." 

            "Damn right it is," Pietro agreed, his teeth chattering as he took a second to yank off his wet shirt, kicking off his sopping shoes as they headed to Lance's bedroom.  Lance sat down slowly on his mattress, peering around as if he'd never seen the place before, much less every day for the past year or so.  Pietro trodded across the carpet in nothing but his trousers, not comfortable at the time to undress entirely as he wished to do.  

            He located a warm fleece sweater hanging precariously from a plastic hanger, and a pair of jeans at the bottom of the closet.  He tossed the articles on the bed beside Lance, hunting now for underpants.  He rifled through the drawers for drawers, feeling somewhat upset he didn't even know where his boyfriend kept his unmentionables.   

            Almost unconsciously, cued by Pietro's concern, Lance wrapped his hand tightly around the wound on his wrist, applying pressure to keep the blood from running so freely.  His head was feeling a little fuzzy...  "Pie?  Pie, I... it needs stitches, Pie..." 

            "You're probably right, but I don't know what hospital's gonna stitch you up for free, and without a legal guardian to sign for it," Pietro muttered, finally finding a pair of boxer briefs in the bottom of a drawer.  "And I doubt you want me stitching you up, so, we're having a little bit of a problem, here.  Who's gonna take you in anyway?  They know who we are now," Pietro warned, sitting down hard on the bed next to Lance, plopping his chin in his hands.  "We're... pretty much fucked.  Now get dressed before you get sick," he commanded sternly, helping with the sweatshirt as best he could, rolling up the sleeve of the injured side.  "You still want pizza?  Or I think I saw some coupons for Chinese, if you'd like that better..." 

            Lance bit his lip, fighting the wooziness of blood loss.  He'd done this before... he just needed to concentrate.  "I need... the brandy, and the kit under the bed.  Just... get 'em for me?  Please?" 

            Pietro turned his head to Lance.  "Are you serious?" he asked, shocked.  "You're gonna try to do this yourself-- heeeey, why the hell do you have a 'kit'?  Is this a... it is!  You do this... often?" Pietro asked, horrified.  "Don't you ever, ever do this again, or so help me, I will take you over my knee, like it or not!  And I can promise you won't like it." Pietro, agitated as he jumped to all his conclusions, managed to find the small black box under the bed, and a brand-new bottle of alcohol.  "Here," he said gruffly, sitting down against the headboard, prepared to watch, to make Lance feel guilty for doing such a stupid thing, hoping he'd take the hint and never, never ever do it again. 

            Lance knew that Pietro was trying to punish him, to make him feel self-conscious about sewing up his own wounds.  Little did he know that doing so in front of other people was far from an unusual occurrence in Lance's childhood.  Taking a deep swig of the brandy, he then removed the towel and splashed a liberal amount on the gash, a sharply indrawn breath the only indication of the stinging pain that swept up his arm.  Opening the black box, he removed the needle and heavy thread from their plastic bag, quickly threading it and using his teeth to hold one end while he knotted it.  Breathing deeply through the pain, he ran a quick series of stitches through the wound, able to do so more from past experience than clarity. 

            "When you've been in as many life and death fights as I have, it's a good idea to know how to take care of your own wounds," he managed softly.  Splashing a bit more brandy across the wound, he then poured a bit into the collapsible cup from the kit and dropped the needle into it. 

            "Jesus," Pietro muttered, sickened by the casual ease of Lance's self-surgery, but unable to look away.  He pulled his knees up to his chest self-protectively, startling himself with the cold, wet denim on his naked skin.  "It's fucking wrong what you've been through, Lance.  I hate that anyone did anything to you... but it kills me more to know I caused you to do something like this to yourself," he finished quietly, peeking at Lance from where his face was partially hidden by his knees.  _And when I'm not even sure how..._

            "You've got no idea, Pie.  No idea about the things I've done to survive... the things that have been done to me that make me wish I hadn't... You're the only thing in my life that I've really got going for me anymore... and when I screw up with you, it's all over."  Curling up, he rolled over to lay on the bed, hoping to quell some of the dizziness he was feeling.  "Don't you understand that I'll do whatever you ask, Pie?  Anything at all, if it means I can keep you?  I've never, ever been loved, Pietro.  I've only ever been worth what I can do in bed or on a battleground.  If it meant you'd love me, really love me, I'd do anything you asked." 

            "You... you idiot!" Pietro exploded, bounding across the bed and jumping Lance, straddling his hips and seizing his upper arms, favoring the recently-patched side.  "I'm going to rant at you now, just to give you fair warning," Pietro informed the startled brunette pinned beneath him.  "First, look at me. _Look at me. Do you honestly believe I could dominate you?  Do you?  I am __half your size, Lance.  Tell me how that could work."  He waited for an answer, but received none.  "No, I didn't think so. Next point: you do not need to 'keep' me. I'm here, aren't I?  I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be.  I don't know why you have such a hard time grasping that," he added, dipping down to press his lips quickly to the wine-tinged mouth of his lover, lips responding a moment too late, for Pietro was already pulling away, set to begin a new tirade. _

            "Do you think it's easy to get over everything, Pie?  That I can just shrug it off?  My worthlessness has been beaten and battered and ground into me like glass into a wound... And it really wasn't that long ago, either."  Lance wanted Pietro to come back, to curl up into his arms and let everything be all right again...  he felt so tired... 

            "No, that's not what I meant," Pietro murmured, sinking down, placing his head alongside Lance's, breathing in the soft shell of his ear.  His arms snaked around Lance's neck, one hand cradling the back of his head, fingertips working to massage his damp scalp gently.  "I wish I'd gotten to you sooner, somehow... and I coulda really fucked that guy up."  Pietro sounded angry, but his tone was quiet and even.  "I don't want to 'own' you, Lance... I want us to belong to each other.  None of this... funny business," he finished, not entirely certain what to label their little episode earlier. 

            Lance clutched him tightly, suddenly afraid as the shadows loomed a bit larger.  "No... no, you shouldn't ever wish to be or have been within fifty feet of my dominant... I don't even want to think of what he would have done to you..."  Curling Pietro close, he rolled back to lie on the bed, snuggling under the blankets.  "I don't ever want anything like that to happen to you, Pie... you wouldn't survive it." 

            "No, _he fucking wouldn't... I'd kill him."  Pietro's face was deadpan.  He loved the feel of Lance's weight on him, warm and safe and...  __Lanceness, Pietro smiled to be held so securely, with such love and tenderness.  He thanked whatever benevolent force out there, be it gods or whomever, that the horrible tyrant who'd kept Lance hadn't managed to break his beautiful spirit along with his youthful pride.  "Love you."  _

            "Love you, too."  Lance snuggled close, his eyes drooping closed as the warmth of Pietro's body and the soft scent of his hair combined with his blood loss and emotional turmoil.  He tried to stay awake, but he could feel himself drifting away, sleep drawing him down...  "Pie?  Wake me when the pizza gets here?  I'm tired..." 

            "Baby, I never got a chance to order it!  Do you want... err... what do you want on it?" Pietro asked quickly, poking Lance's shoulder repeatedly to keep his fluttering eyelids open long enough for him to answer.  "...Or did you just wanna find something... later?" he suggested slyly, lips curving into a knowing smirk.   

            Lance nestled closer, nuzzling Pietro in his drowsy state.  "You decide..." he murmured.  "I'm sorry, Pie... I'm just... tired..."  Those dark eyes drooped closed again, and healing slumber folded Lance into its waiting arms.

            "Oh... okay..." Pietro said uncertainly.  He opted "Naah" on the ordering of pizza, but "YES!" on the removal of his sopping wet pants.  He slipped out of Lance's embrace, his heart breaking at Lance's sorrowful expression even in near-sleep at being abandoned, and shimmied out of his trousers first; next, his briefs.  

            Hoping Lance wouldn't be startled by the cold, clammy skin sidling up against him in his bed, Pietro slid once more between the sheets, burrowing under the blankets and wrapping his entire body around Lance's absorbing the sweet body heat and loving warmth emanating from the accepting lover beside him.  "Mm." 

            A soft whimper left Lance as the nice, cuddly form disappeared, but then it returned, and Lance gratefully sank back into sleep, the cozy warmth soothing his fears and shadows.  "Love Pie... Love my Pie..." he murmured, the words slurred in exhausted slumber. 

            "Mmyes, love you, too."  Pietro curled up as tightly as the space allowed, sneaking partially beneath Lance's body to enjoy the warmth and weight he so enjoyed.  Settling down for the long haul, Pietro closed his eyes, cuddled safe in Lance's arms; safe in his home.

* * * * *

A/N:  Awww.  Phase three, complete.  But we ain't done yet, yo.  And all the "Pie this" and "Pie that" is making me hungry.  .


	4. Chapter Four

**Pavor Nocturnis:  Chapter Four**

By:  Lady Eternal & Psychodelic Barfly

            _Black silk... it was draped everywhere... absorbing the light... he couldn't see... even without a blindfold on, he couldn't see... but it didn't matter anyway... his eyes were closed... his body sore... not that he really noticed... he felt numb... he was used to this..._

_            "Oh, little one..."  A silken voice... intangible knife blade in the darkness...  "You've been very good tonight...  and just for that, we're going to try something special..."_

_            The caress of leather... braided ends... nine trailing across his back, already criss-crossed with welts...  a shiver of fear fought to be expressed, but He fed on fear... fear got you punished... he tried to relax, even when the air whistled as the leather braids came down... _

* * * * *

            Pietro was jarred from a pleasant sleep by Lance's night terrors, sitting bolt upright and screaming at the top of his lungs, knocking Pietro so hard he toppled out of the bed onto the floor, and, more uncomfortably still... his wet jeans.  And a shoe.  Sneaker.  Wet, cold sneaker...  

            Pietro wrinkled his nose, pulling himself into an upright position and peeking over the top edge of the mattress, surveying the scene.  Lance was breathing like he'd just accomplished the 10K in record time, panting uncontrollably staring at Pietro, but seemingly right through him.   

            Lance was shaking, trying to catch his breath.  He hadn't expected the dream; he didn't have night terrors with Pietro nestled against him... _Pietro...  Glancing around, he saw the miffed speedster slowly rising from the pile of damp clothes and couldn't suppress a weak chuckle at the indignant expression on that beautiful face.  "You okay, Pie?" _

            "_I'm okay, but __you're not gonna be when I get done with you!" Pietro cackled, bounding onto the bed and scampering over to Lance, whapping him with a pillow.  All was fun, until Pietro shrieked in pain... he'd managed to get a large chunk of splintered wood from the broken bedpost stuck in the bottom of his foot during his flying leap, not even noticing until it was nudged painfully by a rogue lump of quilt.  Pietro's blood-curdling scream lessened into a pained whimper, his eyes wide and shocked at the sight of blood, __his blood, flowing from the fresh wound.   _

            Instantly, Lance curled him close, examining the wood lodged in Pietro's foot.  Shaking off his nightmare, Lance ran a thumb over that pouting lower lip.  "It's okay, Pie... just a flesh wound."  Reaching down for his first aid kit, he brushed a gentle kiss over those ribbon-candy lips.  "I'll fix it." 

            "Ohhhh god, no, it's gonna hurt!" Pietro cried, pulling his injured limb away and recoiling from Lance's embrace.  "No, no, nononononono, don't touch it!" Pietro insisted, squealing and scuttling to the far corner of the bed.  "Please, don't let it hurt, I hate pain..."  How true that was.  

            Pietro had always been a wussy thing, putting on a false facade of manliness in front of the others, and especially in front of his father... but Lance was trustworthy, he wouldn't laugh at his kittenish skittishness, would he?  _Of course not, Pietro decided, but also knowing that because of just this, he would never let Lance get close enough to fix him.  _

            Lance has his black medical box, and he saw the brunette start to lunge at him.  _Ha!  Pietro swerved, prepared to jump up and take flight, when he stepped right on the owwie.  He fell to the floor.  "Fuck..." he moaned painfully, squeezing his eyes closed as he felt Lance's presence looming over his prone form... _

            Sighing softly, Lance scooped the escaping speedster back into his embrace.  "Just relax, Pie.  It won't nearly as much as you think."  Gnawing on his lip for a moment, he threw caution to the wind and picked up the brandy bottle as well.  "You want a couple hits of this?  It'll take the edge off." 

            Pietro didn't need much coaxing.  He grabbed the bottle, chugging it for a few seconds and pulling the opening from his lips, gagging and choking violently.  "That's good stuff," he managed once he was able to breathe without lapsing into a coughing fit.  He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, handing the bottle to Lance.   

            Before Lance had a chance to start the procedure, Pietro grabbed him by the back of the head, pulling him down for a wet kiss, tongues twisting in the dark recesses of each other's mouths...  Indulging Pietro's need, Lance savored that sweet mouth, now doubly potent with the taste of brandy.  The moment, however, afforded Lance a distraction so total that most pediatricians would be envious.  His hand smoothed over Pietro's thigh a moment before it reached for and found the hunk of wood, yanking it free before Pietro could panic.  Those sharp white teeth bit down on his lip, but he considered it a casualty of war as he held the chunk up for Pietro's inspection.  "See?  It's not as big as it felt, is it?" 

            "Don't you know I need a little indulgence?" Pietro huffed, peering at the wooden slab as if it would jump out and bite him... much as he'd just bitten poor Lance.  He traced the kiss-swollen skin with a finger, eyes locked on Lance's, eyes wide and begging for forgiveness.  He lowered his eyes demurely.  "You know what sounds fun?" Pietro asked, eyeing the forsaken liquor bottle.  "We should get off-our-asses drunk and fuck in the streets, Lance," Pietro implored with a purr, grabbing the abandoned brandy and lifting to his lips, somewhat immune to the sharp bite of it at this point.  "C'mon, Lance..." 

            Before Pietro could get a swallow, Lance snatched the bottle away and stoppered it.  "No way, Pie.  Much as the idea of taking advantage of you in a tipsy state appeals to me, I'm not nearly crazy enough to actually let you get drunk... especially considering how much it costs to replace this little stash of mine."  Purposefully, he placed the bottle out of Pietro's reach and locked Pietro's slim leg against his body, proceeding to remove the splinters from Pietro's foot. 

            Ignoring the howls of protest from the little gypsy, Lance carefully removed each remnant of the wooden hunk; he then splashed a bit of brandy on the wound and used a few butterfly closures to close the edges before padding it with gauze and taping it up.  "There... all done." 

            "Ugh... you'd better be glad I'm tipsy, dammit," Pietro moaned as he flopped bonelessly down on the bed, the alcoholic beverage taking its toll on his senses quickly and allowing Lance to perform the mini-surgery.  "And what makes you think you'd have to take advantage of me?"  His hand roamed in search of any part of Lance to tug him down... he felt so warm; too warm, but he wanted more heat, wanted Lance on him... in him... 

            Lance let himself be pulled down, eager for the return of Pietro's passion.  Today had just been so... upside down, really... not that most afternoons he spent with Pietro were easily tracked... once his clothes disappeared, all they seemed to do was make love and tease and snuggle and make love some more... and it felt so good to ignore the world and just be with Pietro...  "I love you, Pie." 

            "Yes, yes, loves... mm," Pietro murmured, capturing Lance's lips, shutting him up the fun way.  Quick fingers were already at work on the closure of Lance's pants, the sound of the zipper being lowered loud in Pietro's ears.  He could hear his blood flowing... maybe this was why he'd always been cautioned not to drink.  Everything was too intense.  But would he accept it any other way?  Not a snowball's chance in hell, baby.  

            This time, Lance was in control of his faculties, centered again and able to push the recent nightmare into the recesses of his mind where it belonged.  He helped those deft fingers, now a bit clumsy from the alcohol in Pietro's blood, to remove his clothes, rolling until Pie was astride him and he was able to reach the salve on his nightstand...  After the punishment his backside had taken earlier, Pietro was definitely gonna need it... 

            Pietro loved how utterly shameless and free he felt tonight, grabbing the run-down tube from Lance's hand eagerly and lubing up the machinery, so to speak, hands running over Lance's manhood worshipfully, admiring the nice sheen the slippery skin took on with the lubricant aiding.  

            He scowled then, remembering he'd wanted to have Lance in his mouth before he fucked him silly, too late now because he's already slicked the rigid flesh.  "Damn it," he muttered, staring at Lance's erection with annoyance.  How could he get that crap off of it?  His drunken mind was having trouble figuring out just what to do. 

            Lance quirked an eyebrow at the thwarted expression on Pietro's face.  "Something the matter, Pie?" 

            "Yesss," he slurred drunkenly, "I wanted to blow you.  But... I put that damned stuff on there," he said, suddenly overcome with frustration.  He was surprised when he blinked and felt hot tears on his lashes.  He squeezed his eyes shut tight, then crossed them when he opened the lids.  

            He stared at Lance cross-eyed, suddenly bursting into a fit of giggles, collapsing on his chest, lubed fingers sliding all the way from groin to shoulders, and looping around Lance's neck, snuggling, suddenly tired.  With a small moan, he tried to locate Lance's member without the aid of his hands, pushing back against the firm flesh, but missing repeatedly. 

            Lance chuckled, his hands taking hold of his adorable lover's hips and guiding him down onto his erection.  Pietro moaned in satisfaction, burrowing into Lance's shoulder as his hands clutched convulsively at Lance's shoulders.  Lance's eyes rolled back into his head as that tight heat closed over him again...  "You always feel so damn good..." he murmured hotly, turning his head to nibble on the delicate earlobe presented to him. 

            Pietro rocked back and forth, sliding his own shaft along the inadvertently-slicked skin of Lance's stomach, able to stimulate himself in two ways on each stroke.  "No!" he hissed when Lance tried to assist, slapping at his hand when it ventured too close to his manhood.  

            Pietro rubbed himself against Lance wantonly, using his body as his personal fuck toy, knowing Lance was loving it, hopefully, as much as he was.  Lance was his... he'd best be satisfied with the fact and like it, damn him.  No more hissy fits.  Because, alternately, as those strong, gentle hands rose to guide him, settling on his slim hips, Pietro realized that he was also Lance's.  Full circle.   

            Somehow, Lance felt the difference.  Perhaps it was just the silliness of Pietro now, accenting his more adorable qualities.  Or perhaps it was simply that Pietro's words had finally sunk in.  Watching Pietro ride him, feeling the friction of Pietro's erection against his stomach, Lance couldn't help smiling... it felt so good, to smile with Pietro again... to feel like there was hope, no matter how faint the spark... 

            Pietro didn't object as Lance's hand fit itself unobtrusively over his penis, fingers pinching along the sides lightly, keeping the organ flush with his hard, muscled stomach as Pietro drove toward him, then retreated, over and over.  "Lance," Pietro panted, the light sheen of sweat visible on his fair brow, "we should leave.  We should get away from my..." Pietro shut his mouth abruptly, realizing he'd almost admitted his parentage to the one person who may have a problem with it.  

            He bit his lip.  "We should go, tonight, Lance... we can drive out west or something..." he felt Lance's hand tighten around his erection.  "Vegas, LA... Denver... or Mexico," he offered, gasping for air, getting close just talking, admitting the possibilities he'd kept silent about all this time, the liquor loosening his tongue.  "We can be together without anyone knowing us, any of these idiots here..." 

            Lance was startled by the suggestions tumbling off the speedster's tongue.  From the way he was talking, Lance knew that Pietro didn't mean just for a vacation.  "Pie, we haven't got any money... we've got no one to help us and neither of us has finished high school.  We're not likely to get real far, and even if we did, we'd be living on the street..." 

            Pietro, again, almost blurted out that he was possessor of a large sum of funds, but that would require him admitting who his father was... but maybe it was worth the price.  "Lance," he said, slowing his rhythm, "I have money... it's not a problem."  His fingers splayed over Lance's chest, thumbs hooking over the dusky rose nipples, rubbing the tiny buds intensely, Lance arching beneath his body, hands squeezing his cheeks to a pleasurable pain... 

            "You're crazy..." Lance hissed, arching against the churning hips of his lover.  Sliding his hands up Pietro's chest, he silently gave the speedster free reign over their cadence, knowing that no matter how quickly Pietro went, the maddening friction would bring him to orgasm practically simultaneously with Pietro.  "But that's part of what I love about you..." 

            "Oh really?" Pietro gasped out, barely able to catch his breath as he pumped onto Lance.  "What's the other part?  Parts?"  One hand reached behind him to grab and fondle the twin spheres located beneath Lance's engorged, enveloped prick, his back supported by Lance's legs.  He's raised them to keep Pietro from falling off like a youngster experiencing his first ride on a mechanical horse outside a grocery store.  Lance had been one of those children... and the damned horse wasn't even moving at the time, he'd admitted to Pietro once, in a highly-caffeinated state.  Pietro had laughed at him... and admitted the same thing.   

            "That devious sparkle in those melting blue eyes..." Lance gasped.  "They way they almost turn violet when you're turned on... oh, God, Pietro... right there... the way you snuggle like a contented kitten... God, I love you..." 

            "What else?" Pietro demanded, high off the wine and the compliments.  "You should love me for my devotion, y'know..."  He tickled the sensitive area Lance'd quoted, pressing the pads of his fingers firmly and rolling, massaging.  "If you really loved me, you'd let me take you away from here," Pietro said, immediately regretting the way that sounded.   "I want to love you everywhere, but somewhere else," he attempted to amend, the drink blurring his sense of proper grammar.  "Where do you wanna go, babydoll?  Anywhere you want, I can make it happen... and you know you wanna experience fucking in the middle of nowhere, cuddled up close, on a blanket under the stars... and away from all our problems..."  It was a damned enticing offer, when spoken coherently. 

            "I don't care about geography, Pietro," a voice managed, throaty and ragged; Lance barely realized it belonged to him.  "All I care about is spending the rest of my life with you...  Hell, we can trade in the Jeep for a station wagon and live on the road, if you want..."  Lance thrashed beneath him as Pietro sank sharply down, applying a maddening pressure to the sensitive flesh just behind his balls.  "God, Pie... Pietro-o-o-o-o...." 

            "Christ, if you got a station wagon I'd have to kill you," Pietro hissed as he was bounced.  "Painfully," he added a moment later.  "C'mon, Lance... pick a place, any place.  And we'll go."  Lance's shaft hit that special spot, deep within Pietro, causing him to let loose, flooding Lance's stomach with his life essence.  

            Pietro nearly passed out from exertion, and felt Lance's hands keeping his rhythm by manipulating his hips, bruising the tender flesh and crying Pietro's name as he spilled into him, spent.  Pietro threw his weight into righting himself, taking himself off Lance's propped-up legs and wobbling ever so slightly, then crashing down onto Lance's abused front, groaning.  "We're going," Pietro informed him.  "I'm not letting anything fuck this up."   

            Lance somehow found the strength to open his eyes, focusing on the snowy head that was nestled under his chin.  Pietro really meant it.  He really wanted to leave... leave the Brotherhood...  Todd and Fred were pretty much helpless, and Tabby was little more than a hanger-on now that his relationship with Pietro had taken off...  Could they really do it?  Get away from the war between Xavier and Mystique and Magneto and live their own life?  Someplace... different...  better...  away from everything and everyone...  Goddamn if it wasn't tempting... "Okay.  Let's do it," Lance affirmed.  "Let's get outta here.  We can go to San Fran... we'll have rights there as a couple, nobody would look at us twice if we live in the right neighborhood... we could blend in, and with 3000 miles between us, we might actually get away from this stupid war... 

              "Let's do it." 

* * * * *

            A/N:  Wow... it's actually over!  No more phases!  Complete!  Finito!  O_o;  ::shocked::  Until, however, we decide to begin a possible sequel.  .  I demand begging.  


End file.
